


Acts of Desperate Men

by BlackAngel001



Series: Acts of Desperate Men [1]
Category: Emergency!
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Character Death, Emotional Turmoil, Gen, Rescues, police procedure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-14 21:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackAngel001/pseuds/BlackAngel001
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things that can't be forgotten or forgiven.  There are some things that come back and bite you.  The past is catching up Roy and Johnny in a big way that could cost them everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posted at FF.net as well under the same title. It is technically completed but I'm going to post one chapter every day.

" _For some moments if life there are no words_." --David Seltzer,  _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_

The mood at Station 51 was calm, relatively, as the men on "A" shift discussed their adventures on their days off. Captain Stanely stood just outside the doorway of the dayroom, hating that he was about to hurt someone he respected, knowing it would get worse before it got better, and accepted it, although reluctantly. He took a step forward and cleared his throat.

"Roy? John? You two need to come to my office." He didn't elaborate but his tone said 'now', not 'three minutes from now.'

DeSoto and Gage exchanged looks in a silent conversation that partners who'd been together for years could do.

"Shift's barely started and already Gage is in trouble," Chet said to Marco, gesturing vaugly.

John made a face at the Irishman, but didn't make a reply, figuring seeing what is Captain wanted was more important than giving a snappy comeback. As usual, the office door was open and Stanely was sitting at his desk, two men in suits standing nearby.

"I took the squad out of service, just until Dwyer gets here, which should be in about the next ten minutes," he said, his gaze going from one man to the other evenly.

John shifted his feet and put his hands on his hips loosly, eyebrows knitting together.

"Dwyer? Uh, Cap, don't you think three paramedics is a bit much?"

Stanely leaned forward, his easy-going manner replaced by a more serious one.

"Gage, there's a reason why I'm putting the squad in, and you're just going to have to deal with it. Got it?"

The young paramedic straightened, taken aback by Hank's words and mood. He shot a quick look at Roy, then re-focused on his Captain. "Yeah, I got it."

"Alright, then unless Roy wants you to stick around then you can go." Hank glanced at the suits.

Roy looked at the men too, evaluating them. Cops, he figured, detectives to be more exact. He didn't know the police system too well, but he'd interacted with enough cops on runs to know the difference between a 'street roller' and a 'house sitter'. The two standing there definetly weren't street cops and they definetly weren't messengers of good news.

He looked at his partner, who was ready to burst with curiosity. In the pit of his stomach, Roy felt a knot form, getting tighter with each breath. If it was bad news, did he want Johnny there? John gave him a look, one that easily read, "If you want me to go, fine, but I'm gonna ask you about it and it will probably drive you crazy." And he would, Roy knew. Nah, it would be better to keep him around, because Johnny always watched his back.

"He can stay." Roy looked at the cops again.

"Gage, close the door," warned Cap. He wasn't sure about Roy's reaction, but he'd be damned if he'd let anyone else see it before the man was ready.

When the door was shut, the older of the two cops took a tiny step forward.

"Mr. DeSoto, I'm Detective Adam Barton. My partner, Todd Burnes." The younger man nodded. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but this morning your wife was involved in a hit and run."

Roy knew his face was white, he could feel the blood draining away. The knot was tighter than ever, so much so that if felt like he'd been hit. He must've staggered, or swayed, or something, because John had gripped his arm and tried to move him to a chair to sit down. Roy refused to budge.

Working past the pain in his throat, Roy had to ask, "Was it real bad?"

"Bad enough. She was taken to Rampart General Hospital, and last I knew she was alive. I told the hospital to call here on any updates until you got there." He sighed. "I'm really sorry, Mr. DeSoto."

Roy said something, he must've, but all he really knew was that he was in his car urging it to go faster, even though he was pushing forty. It wasn't a long drive to Rampart from the station, five in good traffic, fifeteen in bad, but he felt each second and cursed that. In his head, all he could see was Joanne, her expressions, her actions, everything about her from the time they'd met in fourth grade to dinner last night. Roy tried to focus on the road and traffic, an accident would only slow him down and eat up time he didn't have, but it didn't work. The control and calm he was famous for in the department eluded him now, and Roy didn't know what to do to get it back.

Finally, finally, he was pulling into Rampart and sprinting for the emergency room. The familiar smell of anitseptic and cleaning solution calmed him just enough that he could think on what to do. He went to the nurses' station, hoping and praying Dixie was there. He trusted Dix to be level with him, even if...

No! He couldn't go there, not yet!

God, the little winged cherubs, someone up there had heard him. Dixie McCall turned her blonde head his way.

"He just showed up. Yeah, right. Bye." She hung up the phone carefully, and faced him fully, coming around from behind the counter. Her blue eyes, which had always been so expressive to him, locked and held his, which were now big and wide in his pale face.

"Roy, you need to go to room 614," she said gently.

DeSoto opened his mouth, but this time he could get around that burning pain in his throat. So he nodded and took off again, heading for the elevator. He punched the button savagly, bounced on his heels, and punched it somemore, as if that would make it go faster. He was considering the stairs when finally, finally, although it hadn't been more than two minutes, the doors opened. The ride to the sixth floor, the intensive care unit, his mind supplied numbly, seemed to take another eternity, before Roy was stepping off and running again. It vaugly crossed his mind that he might beat Johnny right now if they were to race, but then he was at the door and Johnny and races were completely forgotten.

When Roy went in the room, he felt that knot twist again, harder, and he did feel his knees buckle. Joanne was on a hospital bed, surrounded by machines and the various noises they made. Stark white bandages covered her, a blatant contrast to her bruised skin. Brackett and Early hovered close by, talking quietly. They looked at him, sympathy and pity making their eyes dark. As Roy sat next to his wife, Brackett came up beside him, dropped a hand on his shoulder. Roy flinched.

"Roy, she's in very serious condition right now, lost a lot of blood."

Something other than cold, paralyzing fear seeped into Roy's veins, making him want to hit Kel Brackett and shout,  _"Of course she's in 'very serious condition'! She's been hit by a car!"_  He wanted to smash Joe Early's head through the window, just to get that look off the man's face, the one that said he didn't think the patient was going to make it.

He wanted to, very badly; he could just see it in his head, in fact. But he didn't. Instead, he carefully took Joanne's hand and ran his thumb over the wedding ring he'd given her. Brackett was still talking, listing her injuries, he realized. Even though the paramedic in him was interested, the part that was in control, the part of him that was Joanne DeSoto's husband, couldn't take it.

"Not now," he choked out. He'd meant to sound in control, calm, because that's who he was, who he had to be. "Later, please. But not now-" Roy bent his head over Joanne's hand.

The two doctors exchanged in a silent conversation, then left. They felt helpless, useless, now. All that could be done had been, at least medically. Now, everyone, including them, had to appeal to a higher power. Even though they knew it, had even accepted it somewhere inside, they were racking their brains and going through all their years of experience, training, and schooling to find a way to help the woman a man they admired and respected keep her life.

Roy held her hand and talked to her, telling her all sorts of things, from his brief time in Vietnam to some pranks that had been played around the station. He told her about his last shift, and the little boy he and Johnny lost. He told her his plans for his next couple of days off, the plans he was making for their anniversary, even though it was five months away. He told her everything he could think of, then he'd run out of that, he pleaded with her not to leave him, outright begged her. He made promises and bargins, teased and cajouled, but Joanne never stirred, her color never got better. Then Roy was reduced to tearful pleading with God. At that moment, he would have sold his soul or given his life, if it meant Joanne would make it through and open her eyes.

Roy loved her eyes, the same color as hot chocolate, and just as enticing. In case he had never told her that, he told her then. The whole time, he had no idea if she heard him and Roy felt that if she hadn't heard all the pointless white noise, then she hadn't heard all the 'I love you's' either. Something tore apart inside him at the idea, but it wasn't that not. So, he covered her hand with both of his, and squeezed it as hard as he dared. He paused. Squeezed. Paused. Squeezed. Then he kissed her hand, right above her ring and right under her knuckle.

One day while driving to a get together of firemen, the kids had been a bit more rambunchus than usual, making it near impossivle for their parents to talk. Seeing Joanne near the end of her rope in patience, Roy had taken her hand, squeezed it three times, and kissed her finger right between the ring and knuckle.

Three squeezes, one for each word of 'I love you'.

She had beamed and squeezed his hand back four times for 'I love you, too'.

For the rest of the ride, their hands had stayed locked together. Since then, they'd used that 'secret language' whenever the other was upset, or hurt, or just because. Sometimes when he was at work, they'd call each other and tap it out on the phone, then hang up without saying a word.

It was their special way of reconnecting with each other.

"Come on, baby," he whisphered, kissing that little spot again. "Please." He squeezed again, three times.

Above the sound of the EKG machine's beeps, and above the sound of the resperator's hisses, Roy heard the clock tick a minute away, then another.

There was a light pressure on his hand. Roy froze, held his breath, afraid to miss anything. Another minute. A second light pressure, a third, a fourth. Roy pressed kisses all over the back of her hand, on her face.

"I heard it sweetheart, I got it." He went to sit in his chair again but missed it and ended up on his knees on the floor. "God, Annie, I got it."

Roy was on his feet again in the next instant when the slow beeping EKG let out a steady sound, one he was way too familiar with. Frantic, DeSoto pushed the call button and began CPR, only to be pushed away by doctors and nurses four minutes later. He watched as the defibulator was wheeled in, and when someone gently guided him out the door and into the hallway, he watched that first charge surge through his wife. Then the door closed and he couldn't see or hear any of what was going on.

Just like on his way to the hospital, Roy found himself stepping off the elevator and into the emergency room area without really being sure how he did it. His entire body was on autopilot, allowing whoever it was with him to guide him to a seat in the waiting room. The knot was getting bigger and tighter, filling his chest and making it hard to breath. Brackett and Early were approaching him, he saw out of the corner of his eye. Brackett stopped next to Dixie and stayed there, and Early kept coming. The doctor didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, he just kept rubbing them together. Early stood off to the side of Roy, looking at the floor. He took a deep breath, let it out, and looked the fireman in the face.

"I'm so sorry, Roy."

DeSoto figured whatever you learned in med school about giving bad news flew out the window when it came to the real thing.

_Joanne's dead. She's dead, she's dead, she's dead, she'sdeadshe'sdeadshe'sdeadshe'sdead..._

And that knot that had been in him since morning unravled and the last thing Roy felt was something shattering into millions of pieces before everything was numb.

For the first time in a long time, Dixie had no idea what to say or do to comfort. It was even more frustrating because she counted Roy as one of her closest friends and she just didn't know what to do for him. Maybe if he cried or something she'd have an idea, but Roy just sat in that little corner of the waiting room, pale and listless, staring at nothing.

"I called Johnny at the station. He's on his way," she told Kel while still staring at Roy.

"Well, maybe he can do something." Kel sighed and shook his head. "Her mother and sister are on their way, too." He glanced at Dixie, then back to one of his best paramedics in the program. "Let me know if I can help."

Dixie nodded as he walked off and almost sighed in relief when she saw John come through the doors. He spotted his partner quick enough, but went to Dixie first.

"How long has he been like that?" Gage jerked a thumb in DeSoto's direction as Dix looked at her wristwatch.

"Almost fifeteen minutes now. No one can get through to him, it's like he's tuned out everything else."

John sighed and turned to look at Roy. "I'm not sure what I can do, but I'll try." He stalked over to him and crouched down in front. "Hey, pally," he said, keeping his voice soft. Roy didn't react, but Johnny knew it wouldn't be that easy. "Listen, uh, if you want, we can go somewhere, anywhere you want." Nothing. A child laughed in the room and he saw Roy wince. An idea came to him, making him snap his fingers. "Oh, that's right, you've gotta pick up the kids from school soon." A hand twitched.  _'That's it, parnter. Come back to us, if for no other reason than your kids.'_

"But, maybe you should change out of your uniform first, huh?" Roy blinked.

"What about you," he asked, voice flat.

"What about me?"

Now Roy looked at John, really looked at him and saw him, and John could have jumped for joy. "You're still in uniform."

Absently, Gage ran a hand over his shirt. "But I'm still on shift."

"Then I am too." And if the set of his shoulder's was any indication, Johnny could tell Roy was serious.

"No, Cap took you off for a while. That's why Dwyer's in with me for this shift."

Roy felt a question form in his mind, could tell his mouth opened to ask it, but he didn't allow it. It was a ridiculous, stupid question, considering how old he was. He wasn't five, he didn't need someone to keep away bad monsters or anything like them.

But the thought still kept popping in his head.

_Johnny, help me?_

Gage's eyebrows knit together. "Roy?"

He didn't need help from anyone to pick up the pieces, best friend or not. He didn't need the understanding or the shoulder to lean on.

"Johnny, I don't think I can-" DeSoto sucked in a deep, shaky breath, trying to get a handle on the tears pricking his eyes. He'd be damned if he broke down in a hospital.

"Okay, alright, I'll help you." Johnny put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. To his dismay, the words seemed to make Roy look worse. "Do you want to go back to the station or home?"

If the idea of going to the station was unappealing, the idea of going home was downright appaling. Seeing the torture on his best friend's face made John curse himself. "Or anywhere, just tell me what you want."

Roy stilled a moment, then shook his head and scrubbed his face roughly with one hand. "No, you're right. I've gotta get the kids."

"Listen, if you need time to pull together then we'll figure something out," assured Johnny.

Roy shook his head again and stood, taking more deep breaths. "It'll be okay, I'll be okay, don't worry about it." He repeated it like a prayer, softly and to himself. He was so focused on it, he didn't pay attention to what Johnny was saying or doing, just forced one foot in front of the other until he was out the door and in his car.

John stared after his friend, feeling helpless and unsure. While Roy did have his moments, they were far and few between, so he was at a loss on what to do. And even though they were best friends, Roy didn't always share his problems with Johnny, or let the younger man help him.

That way of thinking made John wonder: was he and Roy really best friends? That's what he said all the time, but Roy never had. In fact, the senior paramedic would more often than not roll his eyes and let out a long suffering sigh, like he was only tolerating something.

So, maybe Roy didn't want, or even need, his help?

It could have been his thoughts, or that he was thinking of her and remembering her, it being so soon after her death and all, but Johnny could have sworn that Joanne was standing next to him, staring into the same space as he. As if they could still see Roy's back. She looked exactly like she had the last time he'd seen her-in a summber dress, short hair decorated with a few stylish beretts, just enough make up to accent her classicly beautiful features. The ghostly vision next to him wore the same expression she'd had that time at the picnic 51's had: sad, thoughtful, so much older than her years.

"I know it's hard to understand what's going on with him, Johnny. Roy doesn't put his feelings out for everyone to see so if, or when, something happens as it usually does, he can help everyone else get through it."

Exactly like that moment weeks ago, she carefully tucked a bit of stray hair behind her ear and sighed.

"I'm always told that Roy is a pillar of strength for his shiftmates, a rock for them to lean on when things get tough. But," here her gaze darkened ever so slightly. "But, who's going to be there for him, if things get tough and he needs a rock to lean on, when he crumbles?"

It had blown his mind then and it did again. John could harldy imagine a time when Roy DeSoto would need a rock of his own, as it were. Besides, he always had Joanne.

Except he doesn't anymore.

The memory (or spirit?) of Joanne faded, smiling, leaving Johnny to ponder her last question.

_Who's going to be there for him, if things get tough and he needs a rock to lean on?_

Why, his best buddy, of course.


	2. Chapter 2

" _When it hurts to look back, and you're scared to look forward, you can look beside you and your best friend will be there_." -Anon

As an Army medic , there'd been plenty of times when Roy had had to make a tough descision. As a fireman, and now paramedic, it was worse because not only did he have to make those tough choices, he had to make hard explinations. In the civilian world, as opposed to military life, there wasn't any comfortable rule or regulation or code that you could use-it wasn't that simple. But, harder than having to choose between treating one man and not another, harder than have to call a Code F, was looking his children in the eye and telling them that mom wasn't coming home, ever. Just as hard, or maybe worse, was answering their questions.

_Why wasn't she coming back?_

_Was it because they'd been fighting? They promised not to anymore._

_Did he and mom have a fight?_

_Didn't she love them anymore?_

He said, of course mom loved them, very much. Then he explained, as carefully as he could, that mom couldn't ever come back, that it wasn't because of them or what they did, it wasn't because of something he did, but because someone had hit her with a car, and hurt her so bad the doctors couldn't make her better.

The children were old enough that death wasn't too foreign a concept, although their innocence kept them from thinking about it too much. So, the idea that their mother was dead wasn't hard to understand, it was just hard to grasp. His son tried to deny it, even when his sister broke down into tears and threw herself into her father's lap. He tried even harder when his father hugged her and rocked her. But when his dad began to cry, Christopher DeSoto could deny it anymore. Roy put an arm around his oldest and pulled him close, letting them both sob and scream while his own silent tears fell from his face and into their hair.

It wasn't the release he wanted, or needed. Not even close. But, his children needed him to put his own wants aside, so he could take care of them.

About an hour later, the kids were reduced to hiccups and had fallen asleep, cuddled on his lap. A half an hour later, Roy, too, fell asleep.

Why could he hear someone knocking on the front door? Roy groaned and opened his eyes, blinking against the morning sunlight. What was he doing in the living room arm chair? The knocking was becoming harder and heavier.

"Joanne, would you-" he cut himself off. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Roy made himself get up and answer the door, and was nearly punched in the face for it.

" 'Bout time, I thought you weren't home." Johnny looked Roy over carefully and frowned, brow wrinkling. "You look terrible."

Roy's dry, "Gee thanks" was drowned out by Jenny's excited, "Uncle Johnny's here!"

The eight year old pushed her way around her father's legs and latched onto her "uncle's", smiling up at him adoringly. John bent to pick her up and gave an over-exagerated groan.

"Oh, you're getting too big to be picked up like this, aren't ya, Jenny-bean?" He grinned and raseberry-kissed her cheek, making the little girl giggle and squirm. Roy couldn't help the small smile that played on his lips.

"Uncle Johnny, come in and have breakfast with us, Mama can fix panc-" Jenny's mouth formed a little "o", like she'd just remembered something and sniffed. Roy's smile faded as he took his daughter and held her, stroking her hair. Jenny wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder.

"You want to help me make pancakes," he asked her. She nodded and said something, but it was muffled. Roy chuckled and John could see it was only because his little girl needed it. "Sure, we can put strawberries on them."

Jenny lifted her head, perked by the promise. "Okay, I'll tell Chris," she said squirming. Roy set her down and off she ran, calling for her brother.

John and Roy stood on the porch, akward with each other without knowing why.

"You want to stay for breakfast," Roy finallly asked.

"Do you mind?" If Roy really didn't want him there, that was fine. Okay, not really, but he'd be able to deal with it.

"It'd be good for the kids," his partner commented in an off-hand kind of way. He went inside, leaving the door open for John to follow, if he wanted.

Johnny stepped in and quietly closed the door behind him.

Chris and Jenny were in the kitchen, arguing about how many eggs they needed and who would help cook, as oppossed to who would set the table. Chris was the first to notice their father and Uncle Johnny come in and stopped mid-sentance, looking guilty. Jenny shared his look.

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

"No, sir," Chris said at the same time Jen said, "No, Daddy."

John clapped his hands together and smiled widely. "So, who wants to help me cook?"

Jennifer looked at her brother, who shrugged and went to the silverware drawer. Beaming, Jenny waved her hand, saying "I do!"

"Alright, then Chris can set the table, your dad can take a shower, and-"

"No."

John froze and the smile lost some of it's brightness. "No," he repeated, suddenly afraid he'd crossed some unknown line.

"No, I'm not leaving you in my kitchen; I'd like to keep it and prevent my kids from getting sick off your lousy cooking." Roy took the eggs out of Gage's hand, counting down in his head from three.

Right on cue, Johnny began an indignant tyrade to defend his cooking, making the kids laugh and Roy smile inwardly, even though on the outside he rolled his eyes.

Making breakfast didn't quite go according to plan. Jenny accidentaly dropped pieces of eggshell in the pancake batter, Roy spilled milk and batter reaching over to help John try to start the coffee maker, Chris dropped a glass, and John cut his finger slicing strawberries. To top it off, what pancakes they had left were burned while trying to pick out eggshells, clean up milk and batter, figure out why the coffee maker wasn't working, make sure Roy's ten year old hadn't cut himself, clean up glass, and take care of John's cut.

They settled for cereal and fruit.

The kitchen was a mess, bowls and utensils stacked hazourdously, spills left to be wiped up later, and various bits of trash laying on the counter. They were laughing, including Roy, about the pancake mishap, and John counted a victory.

"So, pally, what were you saying about keeping your kitchen," joked John.

The corners of DeSoto's mouth twitched upwards. Whatever quip he was about to make was interupted by someone knocking on the door and ringing the doorbell at the same time. The smile disappeared into a frown, and Roy excused himself. John and the kids became quiet, straining to so they could hear what was said. Unforturnatly, they didn't have to.

"What happened, how could this have, I knew it was a bad idea for Joanne to come down here, I told her so! And look at you! Your wife's been dead for barely a day and you're going to leave her children and go to work, instead of taking responsibility for them like any decent man-"

"Martha, enough." Roy's quiet command did quiet the older woman, but for how long, wondered Johnny.

He was so angry at what she was saying, John was shaking. He looked at the kids, knowing they'd heard too. Chris was frowning and Jenny was almost in tears. That only fueled his anger and annoyance with Roy's mother in law.

Chris and Jenny left the table and walked hand in hand to the living room. Gage followed behind them, just as Martha spoke again.

"Don't you dare think you can use that tone on me, Roy DeSoto! I won't stand for it!" She looked behind him and smiled genuinely. "There's my grandbabies." For all that she didn't like her son in law, Martha did love her daughter's children. Then she saw John behind them. Her smile wavered and disappeared into a sniff of disdain.

"Roy, how about I take the kids to the park for a while? I'm sure you have things to do." Roy looked at Stacey, Joanne's younger sister, for the first time since they came in the house.

Before he could say anything, Martha scoffed.

" 'Things to do'? Ha, more likely he'll get himself into a drunken stupor." Stacey gasped, Roy narrowed his eyes, and Johnny stepped forward.

"Now that's pushing it too far, lady," he said angrily, brown eyes blazing. "You've no right to-"

"Well, I can understand why you've never lost your rude attitude, even with being married to my Joanne," Martha said scornfully, as if John hadn't said a word. "Because of you heathen, gutter-rat of a partner."

Gage recoiled as if he'd been struck. Sure, he'd been called worse, much worse, but that didn't mean the insults didn't hurt.

"Stacey, yes, thank you. Kids, get your coats and listen to your Aunt for me." Roy smiled for them but it was strained and forced.

Wide-eyed, they nodded and did as told. Roy gave Stacey the use of his car, and until the sound of the engine faded down the street no one said a word.

"Martha," he said with the anger barely controlled in his voice, "I'm going to call you a taxi and you are going to stay at a motel."

The woman's eyes went wide with fury. "How dare you! You can't-"

"Don't pull that indignant crap on me," DeSoto shouted suddenly, making both Martha and John jump. "I've put up with your snide remarks, and coy insults only because of Joanne. What makes you think you can walk in here, openly insult me in my own home, in front of my children, then insult my friend and think I'll take it? To hell with that!"

Martha's mouth flapped open and closed like a fish.

"Apologize to Johnny, get your bags, and get the hell out of my house," commanded Roy voice quieter but still just as harsh.

More mouth flapping. She turned her shell-shocked expression to John and said in a rather small voice, "I'm sorry."

She didn't mean it, they all knew that. But John nodded anyway, because it would make her leave that much quicker, get her away from Roy that much faster. Having apologized, she turned, grabbed her suitcase and garment bag, and walked out, slamming the door like a petulant child.

Roy took a deep breath, held it for a three count, and let it hiss out between his teeth. "I'd better call that cab before something else happens," he said in his normal, quiet way.

"You okay?" Although it was fairly well-hidden, John could hear and see the anger and pain still humming underneath the surface.

"No, but I will be." Roy could be that truthful, at least. He dialed for the taxi, and satisfied it would be there soon, turned to his partner. "Johnny, I'm sorry about earlier."

"I can't believe that woman said those things! And in front of your kids? Man, she is nuts!"

Roy frowned. "Look, I'll make it up to you, so don't worry about it."

"Make it up to me?" John blinked in confusion. "Roy, you don't have to do that. I mean, you're the one she insulted after all."

Roy's face went blank as he added two and two only to get three. Not unusual, considering it was Johnny he was talking to, but Roy couldn't help but ask himself, 'What in the world is he talking about?'

"Uh, Johnny, she insulted you too."

His partner waved it off, shaking his head. "Ah, it's not the worst thing anyone's ever called me."

DeSoto figured he was probably right about that, but there was that look in his eyes...

He was so used to trying to lift Johnny from his darker moods, he couldn't stop himself from doing it then, even though he himself was hurting.

"Well, if nothing else, now you've got a great reason to use that hatchet Kelly gave you," he joked with a weak grin.

Gage blinked again and Roy won a surprised bit of laughter from him. But Roy's grin faded at the sound of a car horn, probably from the taxi.

"I should start cleaning up, change..." he trailed off, getting a distant look.

"If you want, I can stick around, help you out." Roy shook his head. John's face fell. "Oh. Alright. I gues I'll uh...I guess I'll see you later then. Call me if you need anything."

But Roy wasn't really listening anymore; he just nodded and sank down onto the couch, the memories of yesterday hitting him like lightning.

Johnny silently went out the door, pausing only long enough to look back in time to see Roy's head fall into his hands, his shoulders shaking. Seeing him so broken, John just couldn't leave Roy like that. So, he went back in, shut the door, and just sat on the couch with him, not saying a word.

For Roy, knowing that silent comfort was there, that someone was ready to listen if he needed it, that a safety net was ready to catch him, made it easier for him to fall and grieve like he'd wanted since he saw Brackett and Early walk down that hallway.

So, he let go.

And his best friend was there to catch him.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_"And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me. Shine until tomorrow-let it be." -_ The Beatles _, 'Let It Be'_

He couldn't have told you what the weather was like, if the flowers were beautiful, if the church was full of people, or if the pastor gave a good eulogy. But he could tell you that his shiftmates from Station 51 stayed close the entire time, that his children cried hard, that his mother in law avoided him, and that his partner kept him from falling to his knees. He'd watched dirt cover the wood of wife's coffin, and with each 'plunk' the dirt made hitting it, he made promises.

_I promise I'll raise the kids right._

_I promise I'll keep them safe, happy, and healthy._

_I promise I'll try to come home after every shift._

_I promise I'll take care of your mother when I have to._

_I promise I won't become a man you'd be ashamed of._

_I promise I'll love you forever._

_I promise I'll see you again._

He stayed by her graveside until someone took his arm and pulled him away gently. A memory flashed and Roy shook off the arm, determined to walk on his own. He looked beside him and saw Johnny there, staring at him with concern and determination of his own. Roy looked to the other side of him and saw the entire "A" shift of Station 51, and Dixie and Brackett and Early, the same expressions on their faces. Then Roy looked ahead and saw his two kids waiting for him with their aunt. He stopped in his tracks, a bit stunned. John moved closer, gripping his arm again.

"Roy it's okay. We're here for you, pal." A group of heads nodded in agreement with him, although Roy didn't see it.

The widower started, as if coming back to earth, looked at everyone again, finally keeping his gaze on John.

In an almost whisper, as if he'd just discovered it, he said, "I know."

At the DeSoto house, the mourners ate a little and talked a lot, catching up some but mostly reminisced about Joanne, what memories they had.

Roy was just starting to relax a bit, to feel a bit more like himself. He owed most of it to his shift mates, who stayed nearby but didn't hover, and Johnny who acted like himself, just a little toned down. That he didn't deal with Martha too much was a bonus.

But the peaceful calm he'd built cracked when Chet came up and showed him a piece of paper with his name in familiar handwriting on it.

"Hey, I found this on the counter, under a bowl," he said, holding it out.

Roy took it and opened it with shaky fingers. Johnny hit Chet in the arm, glaring.

"Ow! What?"

"Don't you have a brain in that head of yours," the youngest member of 51's scolded. He lowered his voice a bit. "It's from Joanne."

"Oh. Well, how was I supposed to know?" Kelly turned to Roy, feeling guilty. "Man, I'm sorry, if I'd known..."

"It's okay." Roy cleared his throat and blinked rapidly. "It's okay," he tried again. "I was wondering where it was. It wasn't on the refrigerator like usual."

"What is it," Stoker ventured to ask. Johnny glared at him too, but didn't hit him. It was never a good idea to hit the guy who drove the engine and controlled your water in fires.

"Oh, Annie always left me notes to read when I got home, just telling me what happened while I was gone." He carefully folded the letter and put it in his breast pocket. They 'ah-ed' and Roy was called away to save Brackett from his dog, Billy.

Two weeks, John thought. Two weeks of temporary partners who asked too many questions. Even if Roy valued them as co-workers, it didn't mean they had a right to ask personal questions about him.

John put those thoughts away and forced himself to smile brightly when he heard footsteps coming through the locker room. He could at least put up a happy front for whoever he was working with today.

_Please don't let it be Craig Brice. Please don't let it be Craig Brice._

He took a breath, turned the smile up a few notches, and turned.

_Please don't let it be Craig Brice. Please don't let it be Craig Brice._

"Well, good morning, ready for-Roy!" John's eyes went wide and his mouth fell open.

Roy looked at him for five seconds before continuing to his locker, saying in a friendly, conversational tone, "If you aren't careful, someone might think you wanna replace me."

Gage blinked out of his stupor and into confusion. "Huh?"

DeSoto unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged if off, looking at Johnny with a somewhat hooded expression. "100-watt smile, super chipper voice, looking excited." He carefully hung it up and pulled his blue shirt out. "Much too cheerful for a temporary partner." Roy put an emphasis on the word temporary.

Johnny chuckled and shifted so he was leaning against the locker. "Well, I figured I'd make the effort to be friendly after Bellingham complained to cap about my attitude."

Roy paused, hands on a button, staring with a look of almost panic. "He didn't mess up the squad, did he?"

Johnny smiled. "No, I made sure he kept it clean."

The senior fireman shucked out of his jeans, pulling on the navy blue uniform pants as John sat down to pull on his shoes.

"Attitude? What happened, you and Reia have a fight?" Reia Martinez was Johnny's girlfriend of three months. She was a veterinarian who practiced in downtown LA; she and Johnny were often arguing about whether it was too dangerous for her there or not.

"No, everything's fine. We're uh, we're going out tomorrow night." John started tieing his other shoe.

"If you and Reia aren't fighting, and you haven't had a life altering crisis-that I know of- then why is Bellingham complaining about you having an attitude?"

"Well, it's just that-" John cut himself off. His partner really didn't need to hear his problems and insecurities, which seemed really dumb, when he thought about it. Roy was still hurting from Joanne's death and the cops weren't telling him anything new about it. "Ah, forget it, it's not important."

"Johnny, if you tell me now it'll save both of us the headache later on."

"Roy, why won't you take a promotion?" Okay, that had come out without him meaning for it to. Roy's eyebrows went together.

"What?"

In for a penny... "It's just, you-"

"Roll call in three, gentleman," warned Cap as he stuck his head in the door.

"Right," the paramedics answered together. They looked at each other.

"Well, time to get to work!" Roy frowned at Johnny's back. 'Alright partner, you got out of it this time, but you can't avoid it forever.'

Captain Hank Stanley looked each man over, smiling widely when he came to a much missed face. "Roy," he said, sticking out his hand, "on behalf of Station 51, welcome back."

A round of "yeah, welcome back", and "here, here", went around as Roy shook Stanley's hand, slightly embarrassed.

"Look, you don't have to-"

"Oh, come on, we missed you around here Roy!" Chet slapped his back. "Maybe now that you're back Johnny-boy here will pick his jaw up off the floor."

"I haven't-!" Cap held up a hand, his clear 'Don't start now' signal effectively ending the pending argument. John shot Chet a look, Chet shot an innocent one back. Roy sighed and gave Marco and Mike a 'here we go again' expression. Something in the back of John's mind equated that look with something else and he flinched. Stanley assigned duties and off the men went.

Roy kept glancing at Johnny as they checked air bottles.

"So, what's bugging you?"

John shrugged. "Nothing."

"Don't give me that. Something's eating at you, and even the other guys can see it."

Gage stopped what he was doing, opened his mouth, closed it. He looked at Roy, opened his mouth again.

"Roy, if you could be partnered with anyone, who would it be?"

"You," Roy replied, not having to think about it. "What's this about Johnny? You thinking of switching on me?"

The past two weeks rolled through John's mind, making him shudder and give a sharp, "No!"

"Then help me out here, because I'm not seeing where this is going."

"It's just...sometimes I think that...it sounds so stupid." He looked back at the air bottle.

"Johnny." He looked back at Roy, seeing the growing worry in his blue eyes.

"Look, it's just that I think you're just putting up with me, that you think I'm just a little kid you've got to look after, and that you'd rather have someone more reliable, dependable."

Something flashed in Roy's eyes, and John cringed. So, he'd been right.

The klaxons went off. Experience and habit made them pause, listening for half a second to the tones before leaping up and putting things out of the way.

"Station 51, man trapped in a tree, 1503 Texar St. 1503 Texar St. Time out, 0918."

Both the engine and squad were running and ready by the time Stanley replied, "Station 51, KMG 365."

The sirens and air horns warned drivers to move aside as they went down the street, the squad in the lead. They made the last turn and Stanley jumped out of the engine, going to an older woman who was wringing her hands.

"Ma'am, can you tell me what's happened?"

She stuttered a bit, made some vague hand motions. "Well, I-I'm not really sure. See, I hired him to cut this tree down; he said he knew what he was doing!"

"Do you know what's wrong with him," the captain asked, keeping his voice relaxed in hopes of calming her down.

"He's an idiot, that's what's wrong with him," a irritated/amused male voice answered. Stanley turned to the man standing next to the woman, who was looking over the scene with a critical eye.

"And you are?"

"Jimmy Williams. I own 'Williams Cutting and Trimming Tree Service'."

"Oh. Uh, do you know that man up there? Does he work for you?" Behind him, the rest of the crew came up to listen.

Jimmy looked like he'd been insulted. "Hell, no, he doesn't work for me. If he did, he wouldn't have that problem in the first place."

"Well, what exactly is the problem?" Hank felt like he was going in circles.

"He was taking down that limb," began Jimmy, pointing to a fairly large oak limb hanging against the tree. "But, the rope he's using for that limb is the same rope he's tied to."

"Okay, and?"

"And what? He didn't secure his rope right before he tied it to the limb, and he can't ease the weight off the rope so he can come down, and he can't untie himself because of the weight. It's a no win situation for him."

"Cap, whatcha think?" The paramedics were worried about a possible broken back, but the engine crew was worried about limbs falling on people's heads.

"Our biggest concern for the moment is making sure that limb doesn't come down, and take him with it." He turned to Jimmy. "How long have you been cutting down trees?"

Jimmy puffed his chest out with a bit of pride. "Thirty three years."

"Is that limb in any danger of falling the rest of the way?" Williams squinted, studying the tree, the limb, the rope, the man stuck up there.

"Well, I wouldn't say it's stable by any means. I mean, that whole tree is dead, so it's easy for something to break, and if any of the limbs under that hanger breaks off, it could shift it and make things worse for the guy." Jimmy scratched his head, thinking.

"What can we do," asked Chet, looking back and forth between the tree and his cap.

Cap pulled out his handy talkie. "Lets see if we can get a ladder truck out here. LA, this is engine 51, request ladder company 6 to our location." There was a beep, then the dispatcher's voice.

"Engine 51, ladder company 6's ETA is approximately 25 minutes."

"10-4." Stanley looked back at the tree.

"He doesn't have 25 minutes," Johnny said, frustration clearly showing at their current helplessness.

"What can we do," repeated Chet.

"Could climb up there, secure him right, then cut the line attached to the limb," suggest Jimmy. The firemen all turned to look at him, then at their captain.

"Sounds good to me, what other choice do we have," agreed Stanley.

"Great, I'll get my gear!" Williams started in the direction of a truck, only to be stopped by Hank.

"Now, wait a minute, just because I said it was a good idea doesn't mean that you're going to do it."

"Alright, then let's see your men free climb up there without really knowing how to avoid bringing that man and limb down, much less the entire tree, then get the limb down properly."

"Well, you can't bring him down without possibly causing further injury, can you," put in Roy. Jimmy frowned, but then nodded.

"Okay, you've got me there. But, this way a rope will be in for you or your partner to use with belay from my crew, or yours, if you prefer," Williams quickly added, seeing the glare of disapproval Captain Stanley sent his way.

"Cap?" Everyone looked at Hank, who sighed. There were moments when being captain sucked, because you never knew exactly what would happen to your men, or civilians, when you made decisions like the one Hank was about to make. For a moment, he wished he could shove the responsibility to someone else, let them take over so he wouldn't have to worry about it for the next thirty minutes. That way, if something went wrong, he would be able to actually sleep that night without the instant replays of it.

But only for a very brief moment.

"Okay, you," he pointed to Williams, "go up there, secure that man and get that branch down. After that, you get down and out of the way, got me?"

"Got it." Williams went on his way to his truck, yelling at his men what he wanted done.

Hank turned to his crew. "We'll move everyone back a safe distance, since that thing isn't going to be lowered gently. As soon as he's done and on the ground, one of the medics will go up and they'll take it from there. Now, we'll be standing under that thing a lot, so I want everyone to keep their helmets on and watch out." The men nodded. Hank pressed the button on the HT again. "LA, engine 51, cancel ladder company response."

"Engine 51." Jimmy walked back towards them, pulling at straps and adjusting the saddle around his waist. Johnny looked him over with a kind of fascination.

"What in the world is that?"

"My saddle," replied Jim with a grin.

"You ride horses too?" Roy shared a look with Jim, both of them rolling their eyes.

"Naw, that's just what you call it because you can actually sit in a tree with it while you hang there. Pretty comfy, actually."

"You ready to go," interrupted Hank. Interesting as the conversation was, he was more than ready to get the rescue under way and finished.

"Oh. Yeah, yeah, I'm ready. Just make sure everyone's clear."

Stanley nodded and watched with everyone else as Jimmy made his way to the tree and up it. The man used his upper body strength to pull himself up while at the same time used the 'spikes' on his feet to spike into the tree and push up. He looked like a squirrel or monkey shimmying up the tree, using branches and whatever other holds he had. He paused every now and again, to catch his breath, they thought, but it wasn't long before he was back at it and eventually to the injured man. He pulled the lanyard attatched to his saddle around the trunk of the tree, so he was a bit more secure, then took the rope tied to the saddle and pulled it up until he had a good bit of it in his hands.

"Headache," he hollered. When the 'clear' response came, he reared his arm holding the rope back and then let it fly over a crotch two branches made, and let it fall. Then he let it down some more, until one of his men could grab it and pull it so it could be tied at the bottome of the tree. Jimmy carefully secured the injured man properly to the tree, then reached around. This was the tricky part, the part that could turn deadly real fast. He made one last call to check that everyone was out of the way, got his confirmation, and began to hand saw through the rope holding the branch up.

It seemed to take forever. Everyone watching waited almost anxiously for the last cut to be made. When it was, the dead piece of wood crashed through the remaining branches, breaking some completely off with it as it fell. Fortunately, it didn't get hung up and hit the ground, bounced, then lay still. A collective sigh of relief went through the crowd.

"Alright Johnny, you're up." Roy hated that Johnny was the one to go up; he usually did, because if something happened, he couldn't help right away. But, Johnny was the logical choice, because of his lanky build and quickness. Together, they made sure John's harness was secure, that his helmet was tight on his chin.

At the base of the tree, Williams' men had untied the rope and were ready to pull Johnny up.

"Maybe you should let the firemen do that," suggested Johnny, thinking to keep them from getting hurt.

Unfortunately, the men looked insulted.

"Hey, we do this for a living, man."

"Yeah, we'll make sure you get up there alright. In fact, you'll hardly have to do any work at all." Roy and John made quick eye contact. Shaking his head, John grabbed his end of the rope, eyeing the D-ring tied to it and raised an eyebrow to the men.

"Tie in snap," one of them explained. "You clip it to the ring on your saddle." John shrugged and clipped it as instructed. After all, they did this for a living and he wasn't about to reject any advice they might have.

Before he really knew it, he was half way up the tree and still going. Well, they'd been right, he didn't have to do much at all, just navigate himself. He grinned and made a mental note to suggest to the chief about using this particular bit for rescues.

Examining the patient when he got to him, Gage was happy to discover that by some stroke of luck or some miracle that the man's back wasn't broken and neither was his neck. That didn't mean the possibility of some trauma didn't exist, so he called down for a C-collar, stokes, and that a backboard should be ready. It was tricky to get the stokes and it's ropes set up, having to pause every now and again when the tree groaned and cracked a bit. But, before long he had the patient loaded in the stokes and was lowering him down, then John followed. As quick as possible, he detached himself from the rope and got away from the tree.

Roy was already taking vitals, the connection with Rampart already established. The air hissed from the BP cuff, and Roy looked at John, stethascope hanging around his neck.

"I already told Rampart what was going on, they're just waiting for vitals."

Johnny stepped over the drug box and crouched next to the bio-phone. "Okay, you ready?"

"Yeah."

"Rampart, this is Squad 51, are you ready for vitals?"

"Go ahead, 51," Joe Early's voice responded over the receiver. John took the piece of paper Roy handed him.

"Rampart, vitals are, BP is 122 over 80, pulse is 80, respiration is 21. Uh, there's no indication that his back or neck is broken, but there is tenderness in the abdomen, with possible fractures in the left arm and leg."

Early finished writing down the vitals, took off his glasses. "51, start an Ringer's IV, if there's no head trauma, give 10 mg MS, intravenously. Splint the arm and leg, and transport as soon as possible."

"10-4 Rampart." Johnny put the bio-phone away for the moment, briefly looked up at Roy as his partner worked a vein in the right arm and inserted the needle, getting the port ready. While he was doing that, John got the MS ready. As soon as the IV was in, he wiped the port, gave the injection, and put on the splints. When the patient was ready, they put him, the drug box, bio-phone, and John in the ambulance with him. Roy slapped the doors to the ambulance, getting in the squad to follow them to the hospital.

 


	4. Chapter 4

" _Lately I've been hard to reach, I've been too long on my own, everyone has a private world, where they can be alone. Are you calling me, are you trying to get through? Are you reaching out for me, and I'm reaching out for you_." -intro to Eminem  _'Beautiful'_

Roy checked over the supply form, looking for any mistakes; Dixie was relaxed but very exact in her work. Satisfied with it, he handed it over to her to sign while he arranged the supplies in the box. They both knew he was just killing time waiting for Johnny to get through in the exam room with the patient, and he was just a tad too jittery for a cup of coffee. Before long he heard the familiar footsteps of his partner and turned to find out what the prognosis was on their patient but the words died on his lips when he saw the large purple bruise starting to form on his friend's forehead.

"What happened to you?" He examined it with a critical eye, but determined it was just a bruise and nothing more serious than that.

"Ah, you know the morphine knocked the patient out a bit?" Roy nodded. "Well, he came to and started flailing, you know, thinking he was falling from the tree, and uh..." he trailed off, waving his hand around his head.

Roy smiled a bit. "What the doc say about it?"

"About what?" John put his hand on the counter and leaned against it.

"Your head."

"Oh. Well, uh," he cleared his throat, "he said it was okay, nothing serious. Just a bruise."

"Uh-huh." Roy reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a little notebook, normally used to write addresses, vitals, and patient information down, and flipped the pages to near the back, then pulled out his pen. He made a little mark and looked like he was counting. John got a cold feeling in his gut when Roy's smile got a bit bigger and he looked up with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "That's 17, partner. Three more to go, then you have to buy me dinner."

"Oh, come on, that one can't count!" Johnny straightened up and frowned.

"Why not?"

"Because...because it didn't happen at the scene it happened in the ambulance, that's why!" He felt fairly confidant in his reasoning but that was quickly fading under the firm shake of Roy's head.

"No, sorry. Department policy says that a patient is under paramedic care until they get into an exam room. So, from the scene, to the ambulance, to until you walk through the doors," DeSoto gestured to the ER double doors, "any injury you get counts."

"Wait a minute, what are you talking about," asked Dixe, looking between the pair with confusion.

"See Dix, I came up with this kind of bet, that whoever between us has twenty injuries by the end of the month will buy the other dinner or something," Johnny explained, somewhat sheepishly.

Dixie looked a bit shocked. "Johnny, with your track record? What were you thinking?" She turned a somewhat angry gaze to Roy. "And what were you thinking, letting him make a game out of injuries?"

"Now, there are rules and requirements for this," defended Roy. "It can be minor stuff, like cuts and bruises. Broken bones don't count, but concussions do, if they aren't severe. And if it's gotten during a run, and a doctor looks at it."

"I'm asking you again Johnny: what were you thinking?"

"I had a good streak going, for a while. Not even a papercut!"

"Then he had to go and come up with this," put in Roy.

"Yeah, and he hardly ever gets hurt, so we decided to take any minor stuff the other guys get and add it to his, to kind of balance it out a little."

Dixie looked back and forth at them, torn between laughing and slapping them upside the head. In the end, she just sighed and went back to work. "Bye, guys."

Roy laughed, "Bye Dix." They started down the hall, John carrying the supplies and Roy carrying the radio. "Oh, meant to ask you, how's the guy we brought in?"

John turned back a bit, as if he could see the patient. "Doc Early thinks he'll be okay, just a bit of internal bleeding and some fractures, nothing really serious. Guy was really lucky."

"Yeah, I'll say." They got to the squad, Johnny put them as available, and Roy noticed the almost worried/annoyed side glances his partner was giving him. Roy gave Johnny until they were a good ways down the road to spill his guts, as it were, before he brought it up. "What's bugging you now?" They hadn't finished their conversation from the station, in Roy's mind, and he intended to, when Johnny was done worrying his new bone down.

Fortunately, Johnny was a bit more forthcoming with this topic. "Why do we keep that score up?"

Roy took his eyes off the road for a minute to see if John was serious. He was. "I didn't think it bothered you." He shrugged. "You came up with it after all."

"Yeah, but so far I've been buying every time! And anyway, why do you get a kick out of it?"

"Get a kick out of it? I do not get a kick out of you getting hurt, even if it's just a bruise." DeSoto was hard pressed to keep his eyes on the road.

"Then why do you still keep track?" John turned a little so he was looking more at Roy, an advantage to being the passenger.

Roy wished he could have that advantage. "Johnny, if it bothers you all you've gotta do is say so and we'll stop, doesn't bother me one way or the other."

"Of course it doesn't bother you, you aren't the one getting bumped around!"

"Okay, okay. We won't keep track anymore." John eyed Roy a bit apprehensively. "I'm serious." Roy felt like he was reasoning with Chris or Jenny at the moment.

"You're thinking I'm acting like a kid again, aren't you?" Dread and suspicion lined Gage's voice, making DeSoto glance at him sharply.

"Honestly? Yes, there are times where I think you act like a kid. Yes, there are times when I get aggrivated and fed up with some of the stuff you do." John shrank back in his seat a bit, shocked. Roy was fed up with him? "But that doesn't mean it's all the time, or everyday. More like once in a blue moon."

"But you do want a more dependable partner, don't you?" They were pulling into the station now, and Roy waited until the squad was parked before turning in his seat to face Johnny. The junior member of their team looked sad, angry, hurt, and slightly confused. Roy opened his mouth but John cut him off before he could say anything. "Don't try to deny it, Roy, I saw that look in your eyes earlier. The minute you get the chance you'll get another partner, someone you won't have to babysit and look out for, who won't put you in danger when you don't need to be, and-"

"Will you shut up," Roy almost shouted. John jumped. Roy leaned forward, looking intent. "Johnny, if I thought that I wanted a more dependable partner, I would've switched years ago! I had the chance, I could've done it and gone to a different station, worked with someone else. But I'm sitting here, aren't I? Were did you get the idea that I can't depend on you, or that I have to babysit you? You know it never seemed like I had to help you get through a rescue? You were a natural going in, ready to do what you had to. It really wasn't too long before I let you handle the patient, starting the IV, administering the medications. I don't call you junior much anymore because you're equal to me now in skill and ability."

"You mean we weren't equals before?" Roy felt like banging his head on the steering wheel. Of all the things he could have picked to focus on, why did it have to be that?

"Not in that regard, Johnny. I've been doing the military version of this since I was 19, in situations a lot more hazardous than what we have now. I already knew how to start an IV, how to splint broken arms, how to treat gunshot patients. When I went through the paramedic training program, it was to re-learn what I already knew and more, and how to do it without bullets flying at you and bombs going off all around you all the time. When you went through it, you just knew the basic first aid you got at the academy. Calling you junior was a way of reminding myself of where you were then, I guess." Roy ran a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated. "I can't explain it well, and I guess I'm not, but trust me when I tell you I do trust you to have my back on dangerous rescues, that I've got yours, that I know you're dependable, reliable, and trust you to take care of the patients by yourself if you have to."

John blinked and digested all that, his mind in a bit of a whirl. So, Roy trusted him, depended on him? He didn't think of him as a rookie, but someone equal to him? That one was still a tough pill to swallow for Johnny, but he could kind of understand it, he supposed. His mind replayed the conversation, and he frowned deeply, still thinking hard. "Really?"

Roy nodded, trying to convince him with the sincerity in his eyes. "Really. You're a good fireman, a good paramedic, and a good man. If you weren't, do you think I'd let you hang around my kids so much?"

"I guess that's true." Gage looked out the windshield, then back at DeSoto.

"So, everything's okay now? Nothing else we need to have a heart to heart about?"

Johnny considered it, but only briefly. He shook his head and grinned. "Nope, I think we're done." Roy opened his door.

"Good, because I don't think I can handle anymore conversations like this with you anytime soon." John opened his door.

"I don't think I could handle anymore conversations like this anytime soon either." They closed their doors at the same time. Coming around the back of the squad and meeting Roy at the door of the day room, John paused long enough to ask, "But you still think I act like a kid, don't you?"

Roy rolled his eyes and walked through the door. "Come on junior, let's get something to eat."

He'd been back to work for eight weeks, and in that time had worked all his scheduled shifts, plus whatever overtime he could get. When he wasn't doing overtime at work, he was doing chores at the house, cutting the grass or fixing a pipe, and when he wasn't doing that, he was taking care of the kids, helping them with school work. There were phone calls from family, what little he had left, calls from Joanne's family, what little knew him, and the occasional visit from Stacey. She came by sometimes to watch the kids while he taking care of some major chores, or when he was working an especially long shift. He hadn't seen Martha since the funeral, and Roy felt guilty about not feeling guilty that he hadn't stayed in touch with the woman. Going up the porch stairs after another overtime shift with 49's, Roy paused at the yelling coming from inside. He sighed wearily, taking the moment to lean his forehead against the door. He was exhausted, and the last thing he wanted to deal with was the kids arguing. They'd been good about it, true enough, as they hardly ever argued anymore (when he was around anyway) and if they did, kept it to a quiet minimum. He wasn't sure why they didn't argue as much, but he did know it was starting to grate on them. He opened the door and the yelling stopped.

"I'm home," he croaked and winced. Maybe he ate more smoke than he'd realized at that fire?

"Welcome home, Daddy," Jenny said, running to him to give him a big hug and kiss. He took both and returned the sentiment, holding her just a bit longer than he used to.

"Hi, Dad." Chris didn't run to him, but he did get a hug and kiss from him too. Roy wondered how long it would be before his son would decide it just wasn't cool to hug his dad anymore.

"Hey, everything okay?" The children looked at each other, almost guiltily.

"Yes, sir, everything's alright," answered Chris, even as he shot his sister a 'It's all your fault' look that Roy didn't miss.

"Yep, just fine, Daddy," Jenny said too, while she answered Chris's look with a 'Is not, it's all yours' look.

Roy lead his kids to the living room, sitting on the couch so he was more at their eye level without bending down. God, he was so sore. His eyes felt gritty, wether from the smoke and soot of the fire today or from lack of sleep he wasn't sure anymore.

"I get the feeling that it isn't." Again they exchanged guilty looks. "You know, it's okay to argue every now and again."

"But then you have to get involved and you're already tired from work and everything else, you don't need that too." Chris stopped and bit his bottom lip nervously. Apparently that wasn't supposed to come out.

"I'm supposed to get involved, I'm your dad. It worries me more when you don't argue, because then I start to get Chet Kelly theories about aliens and abductions."

Jenny giggled. "That's silly, Daddy."

"So is two siblings not fighting." He held up a hand to halt their protests. "I'm not saying I don't appreciate the consideration; I do. It's just that, not arguing at all? Ever? There's just no way you can do that without going crazy, and when you do fight, it'll be huge and probably over nothing but it will go on forever, and you won't get over it easily." He paused, frowning. Was he rambling? "Do you get what I'm saying?" They nodded. "Good. Now, and I can't believe I'm about to say this, I give you permission to fight every now and then. That does not mean all out drag out fist fights, those still aren't allowed, but yelling in at least one fight is okay, gets things out of your system." Roy thought of one run they'd had, a woman screaming at a construction sight, and smiled. Well, the woman had been right after all. Before he knew it, he was laying on the couch, his eyes were closing, and he was fast asleep.

Chris DeSoto was worried. His dad was working alot, more than he had before, and every time he came home he didn't rest a bit he just did more work. He and Jenny had tried not to fight so his dad wouldn't be stressed out over that, but their lack of fighting had caused him to stress and worry. Now his dad had fallen asleep right in the middle of talking to them, something he had never done before that Chris could remember.

Jenny DeSoto was worried too. "Is Daddy okay?" She turned her big blue eyes to her older brother, looking for reassurance.

'Yeah, he's just tired. C'mon, let's let him sleep for a while." They went to the kitchen to finish their homework, but neither of them could concentrate on it. When dinner time came, their father was still asleep and both kids didn't really want to wake him up. But they couldn't work the stove, and didn't want to try, so they decided Chris would make peanut butter and bannana sandwiches, since that was the only thing they could agree on. After they ate, they went upstairs, changed for bed, debated whether to wake their dad up so he could go to sleep in his room, but in the end let him stay the rest of the night on the couch.

When Roy woke up the next morning, he figured there had to be a reason why he was on the couch, still wearing the clothes he'd come home in last night. His throat was scratchy, his eyes still burned from exhaustion, and he decided that since he was off, he would go back to sleep.

'Maybe I should get up and go to my bed,' he thought even as he rolled over and closed his eyes.

"He's still sleeping." Chris rolled his eyes and bit back the 'duh' at the obvious statement. It was a little after ten in the morning, and even though it wasn't unusual for their dad to sleep in on his days off, it was unusual that he hadn't woken up at all since they'd been up.

"Maybe we should call someone, he might be sick." Chris rolled his eyes again.

"If he was sick he wouldn't go to work."

"Not before, but he might now." Christopher had to agree to that. There was no telling if their dad would work while he was sick or not now and days. He'd worked when he was injured, but then the doctors and let him and they wouldn't have if they didn't think he could.

"Should we call Uncle Johnny?"

"No, he's working today."

"Oh. Should we call Aunt Stacey?"

"I think we'll wait until we have no choice."

"Why?"

"Because she could tell Gram, and then..." He didn't have to finish, they both knew exactly what would happen after that.

"Well, then, who?" Jennifer put her hands on her hips, her head tilted so her dark brown hair spilled over her small shoulder. The pose was very much like one their mother had used for them, dad, and Uncle Johnny, many times.

Chris thought it over, and recalled a conversation he'd had with his dad.

"Captain Stanley." Jenny frowned. Her brother seemed confidant, but...

"Why him?"

"Why not him? Dad always said that you could go to your captain if you needed help."

Now Jenny rolled her eyes. "Chris, we're not firemen."

"No, but dad is. Firemen watch out for each other, and their families." She considered it, and it did make sense, but...

"Is he working?"

"I don't think so."

"And if he is?"

"We'll call one of the other guys from 51's-dad has all their numbers in his address book." Jenny crossed her arms and tapped her finger on her elbow. Well, it was a good idea, and she really didn't want to deal with Gram, so....

She nodded. Chris grinned and went to the study, getting the address book. Since there was a phone in there he didn't have to worry about the conversation waking up his dad. The phone rang a few times.

"Hello, Stanley residence," a deep male voice answered.

"Hello, Captain Stanley?" Suddenly, Chris was nervous. This was a captain, and not just any captain, his dad's captain. What if he was just bothering the man over something that wasn't very serious anyway?

"Yes, this is he."

"Oh, uh, hi, sir, um, this is Chris DeSoto. Y'know, Roy DeSoto's son." Jenny stuck out her tongue, a clear disapproval of his tongue tiedness. He shot her an annoyed look.

"Oh, hey Chris. Everything alright?" Hank couldn't think of a reason for Roy's son to be calling him at home on their off days, but he didn't think it was a good one, he'd bet his captain's bars on it.

"I'm not sure, sir. I think something's wrong with my dad."

Hank frowned and sat up a little straighter in his chair. His wife, Emily, raised her eyebrows in concern. He shook his head. "Yeah? Why's that?"

Chris took a deep breath. Great, now he would sound like a little kid with an overactive imagination and Captain Stanley would get to his dad about it and his dad would get annoyed and...

"Chris? What's wrong?" Oops, he'd been quiet a little too long.

"Well, dad came home last night and fell asleep practically mid-sentence when he was talkin' to me an' Jenny, and he didn't wake up, didn't even move, and he was still on the couch this morning and I don't think he's been awake since, and me an' Jen think he might be sick but we aren't sure."

Hank took a minute to unjumble the long stream of word's Roy's son had just told him. "Want me to come over, just to check on things?" Emily's eyebrows went higher, her eyes wider. He heard the boy sigh in what could have been relief.

"Yes, sir, please. I'm really sorry if I'm bothering you, and if you're busy you don't have to."

"No, that's fine. You can call me anytime you've got a problem." He meant it. He believed his 'open door policy' extended not only to his men but their families as well.

"Thank you, Captain Stanley."

"No problem, I'll be there in fifteen minutes." They said their goodbyes and hung up. Hank started pulling his shoes on.

"Hank, who was that? What's wrong?"

"That was Roy DeSoto's son, said his dad fell asleep and hadn't woken up since. I think it's just him catching up on sleep, nothing serious." Or he prayed that it was, anyway. He knew Roy had been working a lot lately, more than ever before, but surely he was getting the proper rest at home, right?

"Is there anything I can do?" Hank smiled and kissed her. She was always ready to help him with his crew and their loved ones, and not just because she was a captain's wife-it was in her nature.

"Don't know yet. I'll let you know though, if there is."

The kids were quick to open the door for Hank when he got there. The father in him made him look the children over, although he knew there wouldn't be anything really wrong with them. Aside from worry about their dad, they were fine. Satisfied with that, Hank went to the couch, gently shaking Roy's shoulder.

"Roy? Hey, wake up pal." Roy shifted and frowned, eyelids opening a bit. Hank smiled a little. "Hey. You feel alright?"

"Tired," Roy rasped out.

"Sound like it." Hank shifted his hand from Roy's shoulder to his forehead. He didn't feel hot. He looked at the kids, who were watching them intently, tracking his every move. Now that he was actually in the situation, Stanley wasn't sure about what he was supposed to do exactly.

Roy closed his eyes again and coughed. Hank straightened.

"I don't think he's sick, just really tired. He's been pulling a lot of shifts lately." He looked at the kids. "The cough and raspy voice is probably from a fire; there was a pretty bad one last night. If it gets worse or doesn't go away soon, then I'd really worry." They nodded, looking sheepish and a little embarrassed.

"I'm sorry Captain Stanley, for making you come down here for no real good reason," Chris said, staring at his feet.

"No need to apologize, Chris, I'm glad you called me. You couldn't be sure it was nothing. Heck, I can't be sure myself." Hank looked at Roy, then back at the kids. "Remember, if the cough doesn't go away by the time he's got to go back to work, call me or Johnny, or even the fire department for an ambulance so he'll get treated, stubborn as he is. If you need anything, you call me. Don't care what time it is, got it?"

They nodded again, said goodbye, and went about their day, careful to keep a close watch on their dad.

John was worried. Cap had told him about his house call to the DeSoto residence, and that Chris had called to tell him that the cough was better, and that the next day Roy'd been up and about, even if it was without much energy.

When Roy came in the locker room and began to change, Johnny studied him intently, with a paramedic's eye. Moving a bit slower than normal, kind of stiff. Bags under the eyes, exhaustion making the blue orbs dull. Suddenly, Roy looked older than he should have and the worry Johnny felt went up a few notches.

"Roy, are you alright?"

"Fine, fine, just a little tired is all."

"Yeah, I heard you slept the day away Saturday." Roy paused for half a heartbeat in his motions. Johnny went on. "Why're you taking so many shifts?"

Roy shrugged and winced. "You know."

"No, I don't know."

"I've got to, that's all there is to it." Roy really didn't want to talk about it.

Johnny pushed a bit more. "At the rate you're going, it won't really matter in a few days why you've got to. C'mon, Roy, what's so important that you're working yourself into an early grave?"

The locker door slammed shut. "You really want to know? First, there's the hospital bills that my health insurance won't cover, then there's the funeral costs, then there's the death taxes, the mortgage is due, it's too late to take Jenny and Chris out of dance and football, so I've got to pay for that, the car payment on the station wagon, the utility bills, supplies for whatever school project the kids have, gas for the car, groceries. Shall I go on?"

"I thought you had all that money in the bank, you know-"

"It was just enough to cover some of the cost for Joanne's funeral, the hospital bills, and a little bit of the taxes. Not near enough for it all." Roy sank down on the bench and put a hand to his forehead. "With the mortgage, one late payment in enough of a reason for the bank to harass us about foreclosure."

"They wouldn't!" The look in his partner's eyes said they would.

"There's just too much to pay for and not enough money to do it with. I could maybe manage the everyday things, like the electric and water bill and stuff, but the rest of it...it's just for a little while, I just have to get them off my back for a while."

John wasn't too sure what to do. He could offer to loan Roy some money to help pay for everything, but then the older man would just see it as charity and one more thing he'd have to pay for. He didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. Roy sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Sorry, don't mean to dump this on you."

"Hey, that's what partners are for," said Johnny with a weak smile. He lost it and looked down at his feet. "Uh, you could take the engineer's exam again, take the promotion." The words were barely out of his mouth before Roy was shaking his head.

"I could, but I won't. It's so stupid, because the money's so good, but I just can't leave the paramedics, especially now." He caught Johnny's curious glance and fiddled with his fireman's badge. "I can't explain it, but I really need to stay in the program now more than ever right now." Roy stood up and finished getting dressed, then started to head out the door.

"Hey, Roy." John looked up at his best friend, one of the few he counted on completely. "If you need anything, a cup of sugar or just someone to talk to..."

Roy smiled. "I know. Thanks."

"Like I said, that's what partners are for."

"That's what family is for." They went out to the bay for roll call.

 


End file.
